


Diospyros

by Solea



Series: The Lotus Eaters [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Food Sex, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Praise Kink, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solea/pseuds/Solea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shot of a consensual bondage scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diospyros

The heady aroma of lotus wafts on cool breezes through the windows flung open to twilit gardens. The susurrus of the shifting silk curtains is nearly loud enough to veil the quiet, pleased cry that fights its way past my lips as hot, smooth skin presses suddenly against my breasts and belly.

“Quiet.” The word is little more than a vibration in the humid space between our lips. I freeze, mid-moan, trapping my exhalation in my throat.

Fingertips follow the ghost path of his breath huffing across my cheek and slip along the crisp fold of silk laying over my eyes before coming to rest over the tender arch of my kiss-bitten lips.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs.

I shiver with pleasure at the praise and release my breath in a shaky exhale, as quietly as possible, parting my lips and sliding my tongue along the edge of a fingernail as he slips his fingers into my mouth. His breath hitches as he presses down on my tongue and I moan despite myself.

“Ah ah ah,” the nearly subvocal admonition is accompanied by the withdrawal of his fingers from my mouth and I can’t suppress a low whine of distress as I shift on my knees, arching my body against him, chasing the contact.

His chuckle vibrates through our bodies where they press together as he moves.  I imagine the subtle play of muscle across the yoke of his shoulders, the ripple of fluid motion under pale skin as he reaches behind himself for something beyond the confines of the bed.

I twist my wrists, bound in loops of silk behind my back, longing to slide my hands over him.

“Be still,” his voice low, clipped, and I stop moving abruptly, bracing myself for a slap that never lands.

Instead, gentle fingers trace a line down my neck and over the swell of my breast. He flicks my nipple lightly before dragging them down to my belly and dipping between my legs. I tremble with the extreme effort of remaining motionless and silent as he slides his fingers over the soaked skin of my thighs, brushing knuckles lightly over the crest of my mons.

“There, now,” His voice is warm and soft again and I sway slightly in relief. “You want to be good for me, I can tell.”

I want to nod, to moan, to give him some sign of how right he is, how well I want to perform for him, and his enforced stillness sends a stab of frustration through me which transmutes almost instantly to physical desire.

He taps the inside of my thigh lightly and I quickly spread my legs for him, allowing him unfettered access to the dewy folds between. He slides the back of his hand across the slick skin and I suck a quick breath through my teeth, to keep from making any sounds against his wishes.

“Normally, I love hearing your noise as I play with you,” he murmurs as he drags his hand slowly back and forth, spreading slick over my skin. It’s all I can do not to buck against him, suddenly shatteringly aware that only one of his hands is toying with me. My ignorance of what he’s holding in store for me in his other hand sets my skin burning.

“But tonight I prefer silence and the sounds of the gardens to your greedy babble. Open those pretty lips.”

Bereft of any other way to demonstrate my compliance, I unhesitatingly open my mouth, pushing my jaw as wide as it will go and tilting my head back to bare my throat, making my whole body an invitation.

He hums deep in his chest as he drags his hand back up my body leaving a sticky trail of my fluids tightening my skin before he brushes long, strong fingers around my lips before sliding them into my mouth. The musky bitter-sweet scent of my own arousal merges with the pervading aroma of the lotuses, and I must fight the urge to clamp my lips to his fingers and suck; he’s ordered my mouth open and open it will remain.

I am tested again as he slides the pads of his fingers over my tongue, pressing hard before sweeping them up the curve of the inside of my cheek. His breath comes quicker as I soften my lips and tilt my head to give him better access. He probes my mouth, slowly sinking his fingers further in and down. Just as my throat begins to tighten against the intrusion, he withdrawals again.

“Good girl!” he cries happily, and I receive the reward of his lips pressed lightly against mine, full and soft and warm. I remain passive and open, and he growls his approval before he seals his mouth over mine, licking into me with broad sweeps of his tongue. He grabs the back of my head pulls me hard against him, curling his lips and bearing his teeth to bite at me, to make me moan again. The pain is sharp but fleeting. I sway in his hold, allowing the hurt, knowing I’m being good and craving the praise that will follow.

“Such a fine, good girl. My wonderful, perfect pet, look at you, you absolute beauty,” he murmurs, pulling away and swiping the excess moisture from his kiss from my lips before hooking his thumb over my teeth and widening the gap between my lips.

“I’m going to help you to be good, my treasure, my little doll. Lay your tongue flat.” My breath hitches and I extend my tongue slightly beyond the cusp of my lips. He lets me wait a moment, allows the expectation to prickle along my skin and just as I shiver, he slides a smooth, fragrant bulk between my lips, well over my tongue and back into my mouth.

It fills the cavity of my mouth, but it seems fragile and organic and I cup my tongue around it.  I can feel his eyes on me, watching as I cope with the fullness. His fingers drift to my spasming throat as I resist the urge to swallow with difficulty.

“There my love, something to keep you muted and pleasant. As long as the persimmon remains whole, I will work on you. Break it before you come and you will wait until tomorrow, do you understand?”

I nod, trying to ignore the feeling of saliva in the corners of my mouth. My wrists twitch in their bindings as I become more desperate to swipe at the gathering moisture and a jolt of helplessness releases a tidal wave of shivery heat that pools in my belly and groin.

I whimper, and the sound comes out quiet and gentle. He chuckles again, and leans forward, brushing his lips over mine again and licking a ring around the bulge of the fruit in my mouth. He cups my breasts, kneading them slow and hard, just this side of painful. I shudder and arch into his touch, and he tweaks my nipples, drawing a sharp cry that turns soft and liquid, muffled by the soft gag and his lips. He grunts against me, sweeping his hands around me and down my back, grasping my ass and pressing our bodies roughly together.

The ridge of his erection is hot and insistent against my stomach. I can feel the tip painting a line of moisture across my abdomen.  Pleasure at the fact that he is already so hard and wanting shudders through me. I roll my hips forward, pressing my belly against him in a mockery of a much more intimate thrust that I hope to feel soon.

The fruit feels hot in my mouth, firing against my tongue and cheeks. I pull one deep breath after another past it  as he works his hands over my bottom and back, raking his fingers into the flesh between my shoulder blades before reaching further behind me. He slides his fingers between my thighs to drag torturously slow circles around my clit, lightly teasing the swollen, fevered flesh.

I moan and press into him, trapping his cock between our bodies where he thrusts shallowly,  spreading the beads of moisture and sweat that ease the drag and pull against my skin. He bends over me, his arm a solid bar across my back and I yield under him, bending backwards until the tips of my fingers brush against the sheets of the bed.

He moves suddenly away, leaning back to survey his work and I can only imagine what I look like to him, my body stretched and flushed, my soaking thighs quivering already with the strain of maintaining the position.

“So lovely,” He murmurs and my breath catches at the quiet fervor evident in his voice. “So good for me, so pliable and willing. Such obedience deserves a reward,” I arch a little further, until my palms rest on the bed and spread my thighs a little wider, intensely gratified as he gasps. The mattress dips and all is still again.

The softest brush of his hair over the skin just under my navel is all the precursor I get to the sudden searing heat of his mouth as he flattens his tongue over my clitoris, laving me with broad, wet strokes. Pleasure jolts violently through me and I jerk harshly despite my wishes, only remembering to relax my jaw just as my teeth puncture the skin of the fruit.

Tart, sweet juice floods my mouth as he grips my hips in his hands, holding me against the onslaught of his tongue and lips and I scream and jerk again, shaking hard in his grip as the white hot tide rips through my body.

My thighs give out and I pitch onto my back, crying out as he jerks my legs roughly from under me, dragging my body to the edge of the mattress without a care for my arms trapped under my back but it doesn’t matter. Discomfort is instantly transmuted into pleasure as I ride the receding waves and become aware of a deeper, more intimate ache that begs to be soothed.  

My legs are bent back towards my shoulders and he enters me, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, deep thrust that fills all the aching, throbbing spaces in me. He leans over me, pressing his chest against my breasts and reaching up to grasp my a handful of my hair.

He drags my head up, smashing our mouths together and bites down hard, bursting the fruit between his teeth, rending the skin and sweeping the soft flesh of it around my mouth with his tongue as he plunges into me.

His breath comes in harsh gasps as he slides his mouth down my throat, biting a trail of fire with teeth and lips as he sinks the fingers of his other hand into my mouth, cupping the pith of the fruit between my tongue and his fingertips, forcing my mouth open even as he clamps his teeth shut over the soft skin of my shoulder.

The quick lance of pain pushes me over the edge once more and I writhe beneath him, tensing around him and he shouts, the punishing rhythm he’s set juddering to utter stillness, every muscle hard and tense against me as he spills into me with delicious pulses.

With a soft sound, he falls to the side, pulling me over onto my hip and snugging me close against his body as he reaches behind me and makes quick work of the silk binding my wrists. I shift, rolling my shoulders against the momentary stiffness and he pulls a palm to his lips before releasing my wrist.

He removes the silk band over my eyes, following the trail of cloth with his lips, ghosting kisses across my cheek. I sigh and melt against him, unwilling to open my eyes just yet and we lay quietly breathing together. The warmth pooling between our bodies temporarily fends off the chill of the fragrant breezes that bathe dry the sweat on our bodies as the notes of night begin to play beyond the portal of the wide windows.

A particular gust makes me shiver and I open my eyes to find his on me, languid and half lidded, a shy smile playing around his lips. He reaches forward, sliding the tip of a finger across the corner of my mouth and comes away with a fragment of fruit which he promptly pops into his mouth, averting his gaze.

Sometimes what feels so right in the heat of the fire can seem silly in the cool, hazy glow of its embers.

I stifle a giggle as a blush creeps across finely wrought zygoma. Instead I lower my lips to his and ghost still trembling fingers across the wild sprawl of his hair. He smiles and sighs and reaches for the corner of a sheet, pulling it partially over our bodies before slotting himself more closely against me his head pillowed on my arm and his lips resting against my shoulder.

Frogs chirp and a bird warbles and the last thing of which I am aware before I sleep is the delicate perfume of lotuses.

**Author's Note:**

> In Odyssey, Odysseus tells how, upon being blown off course and forced to land for a bit, some of his men became addicted to the local food--the fruit of some sort of lotus-- and had to be dragged back to the ship against their will. There are many types of flowering plants or berries that might be what Odysseus was referring to. 
> 
> Persimmons are also known as diospyros, or lotus plums. Hence the name of this piece and the allegory. Forbidden fruit is the best fruit :D


End file.
